


Dynamics of Perfection

by winterdaffodils (zhem1x5)



Series: Questionable Gifts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Bitchy Malfoys and sneaky Potters and a whole host of sexuality based warnings, Community: hd_smoochfest, Creature Fic, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Werewolves, not nearly enough come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/winterdaffodils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to Hogwarts after the War would have been bad enough without a secret that wasn't so secret.</p><p> </p><p>A more dominant sort of wolf Draco, if that's your pleasure. More to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dynamics of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/gifts).



> I finished one on time! Boo-yah! God love my ever persevering beta: hanyou_sensei. The hand holding and poking this required was more than ridiculous and she never let me down. Mods! Darling, darling mods, I wish I had half your stamina and strength of will and all of your email addresses because I know you need the encouragement as much as we participants. And last but as adoringly, prompter of #116 –I just like referring to you as #116– there is nowhere near as much come as you requested, an odd little thing that weighed on me as I neared the end, but take heart because I have a piece held in reserve that fit your request so well I almost cheated and posted it instead. It turns out I'm not actually that much of a lazy bastard so I'm feeling pretty good about my fandom soul. I hope you love this, I adore the Alpha/omega dynamic in this fandom and can only hope I've done justice to all the stories that are unquestionably better than mine (I have a list, a long list). Thank you again, so much, for letting me participate.

Draco froze, his scalp prickling and the fine hairs on his arms standing on end as he tensed. He'd been alone, he was sure of it, but now Draco could feel the almost unbearably heavy weight of eyes tracking his every movement. He shifted self-consciously, picking up his pace and hurrying through the forest.

He stopped at the edge of the trees, staring at the tall towers. Torches flickered in every repaired window, rising further than he could see through the clouds. He wished he could have been there to see the rebuilding.

.oOo.

The Great Hall was loud and bustling before Draco stepped through the large doors but he didn't notice it falling quiet because his last memories of it were of rubble and death and Bellatrix Lestrange's mad laughter.

He stared, eying the cracks where new stone didn't fit as smoothly as the old had done; the shine of new golden goblets and plates because Bellatrix had smashed as many as she could beneath her heel; and finally the solemn, silent faces of hundreds, both old and new, turning to him in eerie symmetry, their expressions an echo of the same emotion.

He could smell the fear and anger, the disgust for his very presence. A snarl grew in his throat, threatening to break free before he could control himself, but they were all watching, waiting for him to prove he didn't belong.

And he already knew that he didn't.

.oOo.

“Ah...” Professor Slughorn stumbled to a stop beside Draco's solitary table, casting an obviously furtive look around the classroom before slipping a small bottle across the workspace.

Draco took it and tucked it away without looking up, hiding his grimace at the inferior brewing. Beggars couldn't be choosers after all.

Slughorn had provided him with his potion every month—there was something betraying in that fact. Actually there was a lot of betrayal in it.

Every moon found Draco anxiously awaiting the disgusting vial, praying that oaf of a lesser replacement hadn’t bollixed it up somehow, wishing continuously that he could brew the damned Wolfsbane himself, and heartsick because Severus wasn't there to take care of him like he should have been.

It grated to know that after everything he had done and had done to him, there was one all-important thing he couldn’t do for himself.

There was no one he could trust to see him through it.

.oOo.

Draco watched the sunrise from the relative comfort of his bed. He watched as a world of darkness was slowly shot through with streaks of gold. The sky faded from black to purple and blue, pink to yellow as the glowing center of the universe rose above the horizon.

It was beautiful, the dawning of a new day. A moment of peace and calm that he would have to abandon soon.

He should have been sleeping, plenty of rest was essential, but on certain days he couldn’t get his mind to quiet. Too filled with energy and thoughts that were both alien and familiar, becoming more the latter with every passing moon.

It wasn’t a comforting thought, knowing that someday there would be no beginning or ending of him or the wolf.

They would be the same.

He looked up at the sun as long as he could stand, trying to ignore its perfect shape. Its resemblance to the coming evening’s moon.

.oOo.

 

Whispers forced him out of the library, Madame Pince staring at the obvious source of the problem until Draco finally gave up and returned to his private room.

Sneaking in after hours and studying in the dark was easier anyway. He told himself he didn't miss the comfort of fellow warm bodies. Tried to ignore that wolves were gregarious by nature.

.oOo.

He wandered by the Black Lake and into the forest during open hours, forging new paths with his bare feet and restless urges, following lingering trails to familiarize himself with the scents of the Forbidden Forest, searching for something that had to be there.

The watching eyes were always on his back.

.oOo.

He wouldn't have thought it but Potter seemed to be as good at hiding as he was. He almost would have thought that the other boy hadn't bothered to come back to school except he had seen him that first night at the Sorting Feast and at a few meals since. Even classes they normally would have shared and Draco still did with Granger and Weasley boasted no Chosen One. It made Draco wonder if they were keeping him away from Potter on purpose, afraid he might be petty enough to bite him.

A hex he might have cast, for old time's sake, but the bite... That Draco would never inflict on anyone.

Still, he almost missed the familiarity of quarreling with Potter, their constant game of one-upmanship. It would have been normal and almost nice.

.oOo.

It took weeks for them to stop staring at him during meals, keen and skeptical eyes observing his every move, judging his appetite and the voracity with which he ate.

Draco got used to being constantly hungry, refusing to give in to the growing demands of his body while they watched.

.oOo.

Potter, who had been avoiding Draco as happily as Draco had done the same, was suddenly everywhere Draco looked, his intensely green eyes finding Draco when Draco hadn't even known he was about.

He was an enigma, a shadow in Draco's senses, and Draco didn't trust it. Even the Dark Lord had had a presence, no matter how much he tried to block himself. And Greyback...

Draco glared, dropping the remains of his plain toast and pushing away from the table. No one paid him any attention though Potter's gaze didn't waver. It never did.

.oOo.

It started small, almost so as he wouldn't notice that the seemingly absent touches were quite on purpose. In the crowded hallways, students rushing to and from lessons and paying no mind to those around them, it was quite common to be bumped into, both parties muttering a 'beg your pardon' and continuing on their way without so much as an upward glance. In the queue to collect supplies or turn in assignments, it was normal for hands to collide in the quest for the best instruments or to be out of the professor's eye line before an assignment was checked over. All perfectly understandable and occurring frequently. Even to the school pariah.

Which was why the touches had grown bolder and lingered longer before Draco thought to be bothered by them. He never saw or sensed anything before the...caress, could only jerk around to glare at the head of messy black hair that would inevitably be disappearing around a corner or into a classroom.

He tried to brush it off, reason away the rather alarming trend, because there had to be some explanation that warranted the odd behavior. And it was increasingly odd.

.oOo.

Draco scowled over his shoulder, straightening his robes and—not for the first time—cursing Harry Potter. How the git managed to get under his school robes while merely walking by was a mystery even by wizarding standards.

His skin still tingled from the hand that had somehow slid up his back before giving his arse a firm squeeze. He didn't understand it at all and decided quickly that he hated it.

Hating the erection it had given him didn't take any thought at all.

.oOo.

“Go away, Potter,” he hissed, pushing through the entry doors and hurrying down the stairs. There was no sound behind him, nothing when he finally turned to check, but he could feel those eyes.

.oOo.

Draco tensed as Ron Weasley stopped in the line behind him. He knew Potter had to be standing there as well –where the Weasel went, so went Potter– but he still couldn't sense anything of him. It made Draco unequivocally nervous and he scooted one step further away, hoping to distance himself from those shockingly adept hands.

They followed him, taking a step as well, and continued their frantically whispered conversation.

It was almost a relief to gather his ingredients. Keeping his eyes firmly away from Potter, Draco knew he shouldn't have been surprised by the hand that reached out to grip his hip.

“What the fuck's the matter with you,” Weasley hissed when Draco stumbled to a stop less than a foot away.

“Forgot something,” Draco snarled back, drawing himself up to his rather unimpressive tallest.

“Just ignore him, Ron,” Potter spoke up, settling the hand not currently teasing its hidden way along Draco's waistband on his friend's shoulder.

“Not like he can do anything anyway,” Weasley smirked, stepping around them to collect his own ingredients.

Draco glared after him only to turn the force of his stare onto Potter when nimble fingers tugged the hem of his shirt out of his trousers. “What the fuck are you doing,” he hissed.

“Come on, Harry,” Weasley spoke, returning with what appeared to be the ingredients for Pepper-Up rather than the Dreamless Sleep they were supposed to be brewing.

Draco smirked. “Good luck with that,” he said jovially, stepping out of Potter's reach and determinedly ignoring the tingling his touch had left behind.

.oOo.

As he knew it would be, it was Potter who finally confronted him over his new circumstances. It had been too much to ask that everyone leave it alone, carry on relatively ignoring him as they had done for months. Potter who should know how easy it was to anger a wolf, should know when to keep his fucking mouth shut and yet couldn't seem to keep from poking the sleeping animal. Potter who had never shown a healthy amount of fear.

If he had been more in control of himself he would have known the comments were digs in response to his own about Potter's puppy godfather. But this close to the moon, it was quite different to know that and to keep the wolf inside from responding.

McGonagall wouldn't like finding scattered pieces of the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Fucking-Die around the castle.

It was tempting nevertheless.

Draco longed to dig a clawed hand into Potter's throat. To bite down until the git's mouth stopped moving, stopped spewing pointless vitriol. To prove there was nothing Lucius Malfoy could have done that Draco Malfoy couldn't do better and faster now.

He pressed Potter to the wall; longer, sharper nails digging into the other boy's fragrant and vulnerable throat.

He was growling he knew, pushed beyond even his previously tenuous control when it came to perfect Potter.

The hall around them was silent; Potter always knew when Draco was alone. Maybe it was more that he was always alone now, but it meant there was no one around now to go screaming for help when Draco moved closer to their hero.

For better or for worse really, perhaps Potter simply hoped to be bitten. Live forever as the Saviour. Well not forever, at least Draco hoped not. A normal lifespan was too long to live with this affliction. Potter swallowed against his hold, Draco's eyes snapping back to watch the press of his nails into the boy's flesh.

He watched the rising flush of the Gryffindor's skin, felt the growing heat of him.

Potter wet his lips quickly, resting against the stone behind him, at ease though it somehow didn't lessen the pressure of Draco's hand against his skin.

Draco wondered if the other boy pressed into it on purpose. Wondered what might have possessed him to allow a dangerous creature this close. Especially when in all the years he had known Harry Potter, he had never allowed him the privilege. Such as it was.

Now Potter practically dared him to get closer.

And Draco had never backed down on a dare from Harry Potter.

He smirked.

And it felt good. Felt normal. Even if his perpetually elongated canines added a crueler edge to the familiarity of it.

Potter noticed it too, bespectacled eyes tracking the movement of his tongue as Draco caressed one of them slowly.

Potter's reactions were interesting to say the least. The flush of his cheeks and increased breathing, that was all familiar too. Just not something that was familiar in regard to Potter.

It made it difficult to place, having no frame of reference. But then Draco had better senses than most now.

Potter arched away from the wall when Draco buried his face in the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. Even if the brunette had tried to throw him off, a single breath— a moment of scenting him—told Draco exactly what Potter was on about.

The spicy scent of arousal seemed to burst across his senses, driving straight to the base of his cock and grabbing him by the balls.

Draco didn't know which of them gasped, only that the harsh sound filled the air around them.

It was a heady feeling, being able to smell how much the other boy wanted it. It built on the need he was suddenly experiencing, the need to fuck and take, absorb all that Potter had to give and then fill him with himself in return.

The gasp might have been his own, because Potter was moving against his thigh and the sounds he was making were a lot more than a gasp.

Draco pressed his face tighter against Potter's warm skin, left hand wrapped around the boy's throat as his right slid down to rest on Potter's flexing hip. It seemed to encourage the brunette, strong hands sliding into Draco's hair, cradling him against the boy's tender throat.

It only made Draco harder, his hips finding a corresponding movement to Potter's.

The feel of Potter's hard cock against his own, even through the combined layers of their clothing, had a terrible effect on Draco's self-control.

He knew the gasp was his own this time, fingers clenching on Potter's cloth covered hip as he forced the other boy harder against his straining erection.

Potter let him do it, let Draco set the pace and worked his body harder because of it. But Draco loved the feeling of those fingers tugging on his hair, the way he could hear and feel the frantic beat of the brunet's pulse as they rocked together.

Draco wanted to tighten the grip of his hand around Potter's throat, feel the breaths he took like he could feel the beat of his life but the other boy was breathing harder now. Great lungfuls of air, winded like only playing Quidditch had ever seemed to do to them, and Draco didn't want to make that any harder on him than he already had.

But he couldn't let go.

It was Potter who finally had to slide a hand between their heaving chests, parting their robes as it went lower.

Draco let him, perfectly happy to allow the other boy this one freedom.

Potter's hand was scorching when it wrapped around Draco's cock, burning him even though he knew his temperature was the higher of the two.

The brunet touched him like he was memorising every inch, like he had done it a hundred times and knew all of Draco's favourite spots. Draco had to give credit where it was due; Potter knew how to handle another bloke's cock.

"Fuck," he hissed against Potter's collar, hips working in the other boy's hand even as Draco fought to get a hand down where he could touch him in return.

Potter's prick was straining over the band of the muggle trousers he wore, wetness seeping down to darken the material. Draco would have laughed at the novelty of it if Potter hadn't been clenching his hand tighter in his hair, pressing his face closer to his pounding pulse.

Draco buried his nose beneath the other boy's jaw, inhaling the salty scent of him as their hands quickened over each other.

Potter was panting in his ear, loud breaths echoing in the large space of the hall, his hips moving eagerly against Draco's hand as he stroked him harder.

Draco could smell the other boy's building orgasm, feel it in the minute hardening of his leaking cock. He pressed closer, hips making it hard for them to continue moving, but needing to feel it.

Potter's hand squeezed and stroked him, long fingers in blond hair as he rocked into Draco's touch. The sounds Potter made vibrated through Draco's blood, sending jolts of pleasure and need to places and instincts Draco couldn't always bring himself to acknowledge.

Maybe it was better that so much of sex was animalistic in its very nature, it let him forget what he was now. Let him be in the passion of the moment and that was something he hadn't felt since before he was changed.

At least not in a positive way.

The anger he'd always felt could become dangerous if he were to allow it to break free. Pure-bloods by their very nature are supposed to be perfectly self-contained. He was neither now.

But this, Potter's hand on his prick and him groping the other boy in turn, it felt like a proper outlet for the things he'd always been able to bury inside.

His orgasm took Draco by surprise, his hands clenching around Potter and his mouth clamping down on the boy's shoulder. His groan of completion sounded more like a growl, his hips surging into Potter's touch.

It was almost too much, to have the other boy stroking through his come, too sensitive when Draco could only growl in response.

He let go carefully, acutely aware of the cotton in his mouth and the tight grip he'd maintained on Potter's throat.

The Gryffindor didn't seem to have minded those few moments without oxygen, thrusting into Draco's hand as though there was no aberration.

He was close, Draco could smell his precome, hear the smack of his foreskin with the wetness of him.

Draco wanted to taste him, but with this...whatever this was, that would be going too far.

Further.

They'd already gone too far.

Potter soaked his palm with a joyous cry, dark head falling back to rest against the stone behind him even as he turned his face to nuzzle Draco's cheek.

Draco let him, fuzzy mind trying to piece the moment together and figure out what the hell he thought he was doing.

To even allow himself to get this close, to let himself go so unconscionably...

Potter shifted against him, cock sliding against Draco's and startling him back to the moment.

He knew his eyes were too wide, too shocked, at finding himself in Harry Potter's arms, wet cocks hanging out of their trousers, after a lifetime it seemed of honest hatred. What were they doing?

Potter's eyes were heavy-lidded, moving over Draco's face as though he could devour him that way. It went against everything Draco had ever known. It went against all the instincts Draco had been  
struggling with for months.

He couldn't maintain the direct gaze now, much as it galled him. But without anger thrumming through him there was only the fact that he would never be an alpha.

He let his eyes drift away almost casually, down over Potter's chewed and swollen lips, down to his red and bruising throat. They would have to heal that, there was no way they could avoid punishment if it looked like they had been fighting. Or Azkaban for him if they thought he had tried to kill their golden boy. He would leave that to Potter's discretion; the git had started it after all.

There was a sneer forming on his face as Draco's eyes moved over Potter's rumpled robes, his limp cock dangling for all the world to see as though Potter didn't care at all.

Slut, Draco wanted to whisper, wanted to watch the weight of it crush the man in front of him. But it was not a word he could ever use again.

Potter let him look, which disturbed Draco even further, his eyes jerking to land on Potter's collar.

On the teeth shaped rips in the sturdy material and the fragile skin visible below.

He backpedaled frantically, nearly tripping over the cloak that Potter had somehow managed to work over his shoulders.

Potter's eyes snapped open fully as Draco struggled to right himself, tucking his prick away swiftly.

"Malfoy?" He reached out for Draco, settling a hand on his arm before the blond could jerk away.

Draco's eyes moved over Potter's shoulder carefully, searching for any trace of blood. He even tried to scent it, eyes closing as he leaned closer to breathe it in.

Potter's hands moved to his shoulders. "I'm not bleeding, it's fine."

Draco shook his head carefully, afraid to touch Potter with any part of himself. "It's not just the blood. Did I—"

Potter smiled like that was all the reassurance Draco could need. "You didn't bite me. Though the robe will need to be burned before it turns."

“How can you be so calm,” Draco growled, the anger that had fueled the encounter growing in his gut again as he watched the other boy relax back against the wall.

“No big deal,” Potter answered, doing up his trousers and straightening his robes.

“'No big deal,'” Draco repeated, his indignation growing. “No big deal. It's a big fucking deal, you twat. I could have killed you. Still might,” he added when Potter had the audacity to smirk.

“I doubt it,” Potter responded to Draco's glare with a satisfied quirk of his lips.

“Whore.” It slipped out before he could stop himself—despite his ingrained aversion to the word—and Draco flushed as though Potter had said it. “You like dog cock that much, you must miss them,” he hedged, fingers aching as he clenched his fists in his sleeves.

Potter tensed, leaning away from the wall. Draco watched his pupils dilate, green eyes flashing a gold that had haunted Draco's dreams before a wave of pure lust and alpha power nearly sent him to his knees.

Draco gasped and shuddered, cock hardening almost painfully fast and leaving him lightheaded as he stumbled back to Potter. “What are you,” Draco choked, latching and clutching on to Potter like the only stationary object in a stormy sea. He buried his face against the other boy's throat, breathing deeply for a trace of that intoxicatingly familiar scent. It was there, faint now and suppressed like Draco realized it had always been, and Draco moaned, pressing closer and rutting against Potter's thigh.

“You'll find out soon,” Potter promised, sliding his fingers into Draco's hair and groping his arse before pushing him away so quickly he nearly stumbled.

Draco panted, staring after him until even the faint remainder of his scent had disappeared. A growl built in his throat as rage overtook the lingering lust.

.oOo.

Potter was everywhere. Everywhere and nowhere. His scent filled the castle, enticing and teasing Draco even though Potter had ceased his random and inappropriate touching. He might as well have been right there with his hand on Draco's cock though, the scent of him had Draco by the bollocks.

Wanking more than he ever had in his life, Draco found himself hard-pressed to stay angry over it though orgasm seemed to make it easier to remember why he was.

.oOo.

Draco sneered when he saw Granger and the Weasel walking ahead of him, casting the strongest tripping jinx he could manage and still remain relatively undetected.

“Watch it, Weasel,” he muttered as he bypassed them scrambling to pick up their books amidst heavy foot traffic.

.oOo.

“Mudblood,” he spat, hating the oily weight of the word on his tongue but relishing the glare she leveled on him just the same.

.oOo.

Potter was there, waiting as the last of the students trickled out of his Arithmancy class and left Draco alone with him.

“What do you want, Potter,” Draco asked with a tired sigh. It was just a day before the full moon and he hadn't been sleeping.

“I want you to stop being such a little bitch,” Potter answered calmly, staring Draco down.

Draco averted his eyes quickly, cheeks tinting. “Not like I can help that apparently.”

“Only sometimes,” Potter offered, stepping away from the wall. “The rest of the time you're perfectly you.”

Draco watched him walk away longingly, sick at the knowledge that Potter was right. He was completely himself.

.oOo.

He woke up in agony, the lingering pain of transformation making him feel like his bones might disintegrate with the slightest movement. It was as increasingly familiar sensation.

The erection straining against his belly was not.

Draco took a quelling breath and released it in a heavy sigh when his cock only twitched in response. He breathed deeply, his balls aching as the familiar scent filled his nostrils. Potter was everywhere, the pungent scent of him practically reeking in the private space he had been assigned.

Draco wrapped a hesitant hand around his cock, stroking slowly in time to deep scenting breaths. He hated himself for it but he'd never come so hard as when the scent of Potter filled his nostrils.

.oOo.

Draco shoved Potter back through the door he had just exited, ignoring the stares as it slammed shut and sealed, completely unaware of the distressed demands of Myrtle that they just grow up already or the snarl that edged every breath he took.

"What have you done to me," he hissed, digging his nails into Potter's arms and pushing him even further across the bathroom.

Potter growled, digging his heels in and stopping their movement completely. He gripped Draco's wrists, twisting until Draco cried out and let him go.

Draco watched in horror as Potter drug his nose and then his tongue over the length of his palm. "What are you..." he breathed.

"I haven't done anything to you, Draco." His smile was almost feral, his pupils blown wide and ringed by gold when Potter met Draco's eyes again. "But you've been busy."

"I, uh," Draco swallowed loudly, his face flushing.

"I could smell it when you came," Potter muttered, sucking on Draco's fingers. "Such a waste when I'm not fucking you."

Draco jerked his hand out of Potter's grip, staring incredulously. "We won't be doing that," he spat, stumbling away.

"We'll be doing that very soon," Potter answered, his eyes glowing brighter.

Draco watched warily as Potter came closer, fumbling with the sweaty grip of his wand.

"Very soon," Potter promised, wrapping his hand around Draco's wand arm and sliding the other into his hair.

Draco wanted to fight it but couldn't, stepping into Potter's personal space with very little outward hesitation. His scalp prickled with nervous sweat as he took a heady breath of Potter's strong and calming scent. "Potter," he breathed uncertainly.

A low rumble filled the space between them before the joining of their mouths silenced it.

A short, sharp scream startled them apart, their bodies still straining against each other hungrily.  
Draco turned startled eyes to the transparent form suddenly hovering much too close.

“What are you doing?! There's none of that! Especially in my bathroom,” she shouted, trying to push them further apart.

Draco shuddered at the coolly tingling pass of her hand through his shoulder, staring in mild horror into Potter's burning gaze.

“Draco,” Potter urged, power in his voice.

“I-I,” Draco blinked rapidly, shaking his head. “I'm sorry. Sorry, Myrtle,” he muttered, straightening his robes self-consciously.

Rough fingers smoothed through his hair, pulling Draco into a briefer kiss. “Go to class, Draco,” Potter ordered softly.

“I, uh, yeah,” Draco nodded guiltily, glancing up at Potter and over at Myrtle before hurrying out of the loo.

.oOo.

Draco ignored the intense stares, ignored the heat boring into him and the way the short hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He fastidiously ignored everything except his own work.

.oOo.  
Potter's hands were everywhere, emboldened by Draco's growing complacency. Draco matched him touch for touch, embarrassed but increasingly curious himself about the things Potter's attention promised.

Draco had kissed Potter first this time, silent permission for the Gryffindor to do the same.

Potter answered with a growl, his hands grabbing and squeezing, pulling Draco closer, nearly devouring him in his eagerness.

Draco shivered, clutching at Potter's shoulders and rocking his erection against Potter's hip.

They were blessedly alone this time, hidden in a small alcove off of a rarely used corridor, almost guaranteed to remain uninterrupted.

Potter's nails bit into his skin and Draco moaned, the sound loud in their small space. “Potter,” he gasped, arching harder before trying to force his tongue down Potter's throat.

Strong hands cupped his arse, sliding up Draco's back covetously before pushing him away gently.

“Wha',” Draco sputtered, gripping him tighter.

“Stop,” Potter spoke firmly, his voice like velvet encased steel as he caught Draco's greedy hands and stepped away. “Stop now.”

“Why?” Draco panted, his voice almost an embarrassing whine but he couldn't help it; he wanted Potter. “Touch me,” he settled on demanding, arching toward Potter.

Potter's smile was a grimace and his hands gripped Draco's almost too tight. “No real touching, at least not yet,” he breathed regretfully.

“Why?” Draco asked again, his blood boiling for another reason as his irritation grew.

“It's not time yet,” Potter answered, his thumbs stroking the backs of Draco's hands.

“And when will it be 'time',” Draco snapped, twisting his wrists out of Potter's hold.

“You'll know, you'll feel it,” Potter whispered. “You'll want to talk to Madame Pomfrey before then. The sooner the better.”

“I can't,” Draco said with a frown. “I can't talk to any of them, not about...”

“You'll be fine,” Potter promised, pulling Draco against him for more snogging.  
.oOo.

Draco watched carefully until every student he had seen entering the hospital wing had also left and then he waited an extra fifteen minutes just to be certain.

The heavy doors opened easily, sparing him the awkwardly loud creak most of the doors in the castle emitted.

He crept forward, painfully alert and cautious. The ward was perfectly empty, normal for so early in the new term, but the quiet seemed to crawl over his skin. His hands twitched nervously, picking at the stitching of his cuffs.

“Hello,” he whispered, turning to see if she had come out behind him from one of the isolation rooms. His footsteps echoed.

“Madame Pomfrey,” he called, jerking around to find her bustling out of a supply cupboard.

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy,” Madame Pomfrey greeted, gesturing him into her office with a benign smile. “I wondered if I might see you. Harry said you would be in, of course, but one never can tell.”

“P-Potter?!” Draco sputtered, his voice an undignified squeak. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Well, given the circumstances. You can understand why he might be concerned.” She looked him over in the gentle way she had. It was usually reserved for the very young or the very ill.

It made Draco even more nervous and uncomfortable, his body tensing when she only sat there. “What circumstances?” he asked tightly, his fingers threaded together and digging into the backs of his hands.

“Well, because of your...bond,” she whispered with a quick glance behind him, as though someone might be there listening, as though it was something best left unspoken.

“I don't—bond,” Draco asked, pressing his nails harder into his skin.

“Yes, much like—only not, of course,” she rushed to amend, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

“Like,” Draco asked again, his breath growing short and the light hairs on his arms standing on end. “Like with him? Fenrir.” Saying the name aloud had a terrible effect on his equilibrium, Draco squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing.

“Draco,” she asked, her voice muffled as he fought for balance.

“Don't,” he gasped, though he didn't know to whom he was referring. “Potter—Fenrir.” He shook his head again. “That's not, not possible.”

“Draco,” she tried again, reaching out to steady him.

“No,” Draco burst out, jerking away and nearly toppling out of his chair. “No! I can't. Not, you were supposed to help me,” he shouted, whirling away and right into Potter's arms.

The familiar and comforting scent spread through him quickly, calming him though Draco couldn't seem to stop shaking.

“Don't, Potter! She said—”

“I heard what she said,” Potter cut him off quickly, smoothing his hands into Draco's disheveled hair. “We went about this the wrong way,” he whispered, cradling Draco's face in his palm. “I thought it would be easier to bear if you heard it from Poppy, but...” He shook his head, pulling Draco into his arms. “It's alright,” he promised.

“It's alright,” Draco echoed, breathing in the safe scent and finding himself believing it wholeheartedly.

.oOo.

Draco gripped Potter's hand as they walked, using the connection to ground him within the surge of emotion. “What was the point of that,” he asked hesitantly, wrapping his free hand around Potter's forearm.

“Not to upset you,” Potter answered promptly, resolute. “I just wanted you to understand. Maybe if you'd gone sooner.”

Draco shook his head, stumbling a bit as a wash of dizziness stole over him.

“You're okay,” Potter whispered from almost too close.

Draco stared at him in confusion, drawn in by the bright golden green of his eyes.

“That's why that happened,” Potter continued, answering the unvoiced question. “You wouldn't have been safe during this if you were still with him. Reacting like that, you may have actually killed him,” Potter considered, looking Draco over as Draco clenched and shifted the grip of his fingers.

“And now,” Draco asked, sudden fever burning through him.

“You're safe with me,” Potter promised, swelling with power.

Draco shuddered and gasped, clinging as much for himself as for Potter's overwhelming presence. He basked in the scent of him, cock hardening like it had in the hallway that first time. “Potter,” he panted curiously.

“Breathe. It helps,” Potter whispered, kissing Draco hard.

Draco moaned, breathing deeply, pulling all that Potter was as deeply into himself as he could. He returned the kiss eagerly. “What's wrong with me,” he asked long moments later, forehead resting against Potter's as they gasped and kissed and touched.

“Nothing's wrong with you,” Potter assured him, tucking a wild bit of hair behind Draco's ear. “You may even come to love it.”

Potter kissed him, deep and slow, has thumbs stroking Draco's cheekbones. The sensation was almost ridiculously arousing and Draco moaned, his hands falling to grip Potter's hips, grinding their restrained erections together.

This time Potter let him, even going so far as to roll his hips aggressively though he kept the kiss serene, the joining of their mouths almost tender.

Draco yearned for more, his hold on Potter actually making his hands ache.

Strong hands traced down his jaw, turning Draco's face for a deeper connection.

Draco opened his mouth wider, accepting the teasing thrust of Potter's tongue with as much calm and grace as his rapidly diminishing self-control would allow.

His body shuddered, muscles clenching tight, and Draco jerked away from the kiss with a gasp. “Does this mean it's time for more serious touching?” he asked breathily.

Potter moaned, his hands dropping to clutch at Draco's arse. “Merlin, yes,” he growled, opening truly golden eyes to stare at Draco hungrily.

Draco shivered again, leaning into Potter's body before he could second-guess the instinct. “Touch me then,” he pleaded, lifting onto the balls of his feet to press tighter against Potter.

Potter's grip tightened and he took a forceful step before he seemed to catch himself. “Here,” he asked tightly, glancing around at the trees and the dirt and the grass.

“Yes,” Draco hissed, scenting to be sure they were truly alone. “If you want,” he amended quickly.

“This is fine,” Potter assured him, scrabbling at the buttons of Draco's robes.

Draco moaned, holding onto Potter tightly. “Potter, you smell...” he shook his head, dizzy with the purely alpha scent of him.

“Nothing like you do,” Potter growled, shoving Draco's robes off his shoulders and starting on his trousers.

“What are you—how are you—”

“You ask too many questions,” Potter whispered, squeezing Draco's erection through his open fly. “I'm going to make you feel so good,” he promised. “You smell so good,” he moaned, dragging his nose along Draco's throat.

“Potter, I, uh,” Draco shivered, rocking into Potter's touch. “I want—”

“I know what you want,” Potter muttered, reaching for his own fly. “I'm going to give it to you, give you what your body needs.”

Draco whined, panting as Potter rubbed the bare skin of their erections together. “What is this, Potter?” he gasped, hands shaking as he pushed Potter's robes out of the way as well. He rocked constantly against Potter, smearing the scents of them on each other.

Potter growled, long and loud, his cock flexing impossibly hard against Draco's skin. “You're going to love this.”

Draco went easily when Potter pushed him down on top of their discarded clothing, goose pimples spreading over his hot skin, his cock wet and leaking over his stomach.

Potter followed, his teeth and tongue and hands mapping Draco's body with an eagerness that bordered on obsessive.

Draco shifted restlessly, is body burning with every touch. His whines were continuous, coming from somewhere deep inside that needed Potter terribly. “Please,” he moaned piteously, wiggling his hips constantly.

“Soon,” Potter promised, his nails biting into Draco's thighs, his grip bruising, as he nuzzled Draco's cock, spreading the wet scent of him over his skin.

“Potter,” Draco gasped, surrounded by the scent of their imminent coupling. “What is this,” he asked again, feeling and smelling his cock leak just a little bit more.

“This, this is very good,” Potter answered, taking Draco's erection into his mouth and sucking all the way to the base.

Draco shouted, coming hard before he could stop himself or warn the other boy, his orgasm pouring out of him for several long moments, only the sounds of Potter's eager enjoyment keeping him from apologizing outright.

Potter continued to lick and suckle him, Draco's cock still as hard as ever and so much more sensitive that he thought he might come again.

“Don't,” he begged, rocking into Potter's touch all the same.

Potter practically purred, his hands hot and hard, pushing Draco's thighs further apart as he worked his mouth down to Draco's hole.

“Don't,” Draco tried to protest again, his thighs tensing as Potter's tongue circled and teased his arsehole. “Potter,” he panted in blatant awe, his thighs falling open further, opening him for more.

Potter's pleased growled vibrated through him, sending pleasant shivers up Draco's spine and down to his toes.

He came with a wrenching sob, twitching violently against the ground.

.oOo.

Potter was cradling him against his chest, his fingers a calming presence in Draco's hair, when Draco opened his eyes some time later.

“Okay?” Potter asked, his fingers keeping up their slow glide even as the brunet leaned away to look at him.

“Okay,” Draco answered, snuggling close again. “Harry,” he whispered hesitantly, waiting for Potter's equally soft response. “We're still hard,” he pointed out awkwardly, rocking his erection against Potter's hip as though to prove it.

“Mm,” Potter hummed, a pleased smirk twisting the corners of his mouth. “So we are,” he agreed, rolling to face Draco and rub their cocks together again.

“Can I—” Draco bit his lip quickly, gesturing toward Potter's groin inquiringly.

“Please,” Potter answered immediately, his body going limp beside Draco's.

Grey met gold and held, Draco's hand slipping between them carefully and closing around the wide base of Potter's cock. “You're so big,” he muttered, ears flushing pink.

“Only there,” Potter whispered back, their noses rubbing together as he shifted to close his hand over Draco's. “We're always bigger here,” he said, squeezing Draco's hand around the bulge before sliding their fingers over the length of him. “See, much more normally sized here,” he taught, stroking the normally sized portions of head and shaft before trailing back over the knot. “You'll have to really want this part.”

Draco nodded, eyes wide, his hand continuing to work over the promising width at the base of Harry's cock. “Harry,” he asked tentatively. “Will it hurt? When you fuck me with it,” he clarified, as though Potter's entire body hadn't just tensed in expectation.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, stroking Draco's hair again. “But I'll make it feel good.”

Draco nodded cautiously, keeping up the slow strokes as he memorized the size and shape and tried to wrap his mind around the no doubt punishing press of it. Pre-come dribbled out of his slit, proving his body was more than willing to face the challenge though he knew it should terrify him.

“Harry,” he breathed again, aroused at the intimacy of the familiarity of using his given name. “Will you do it now,” he asked, his hips jerking in a needy fashion.

Harry smiled, sliding his hand past Draco's balls to press one finger against his formerly slick hole. His smile widened when Draco immediately arched against it, trying to force it inside. “Mm, you're ready,” he purred, pulling his hand back to lick the finger so recently teasing Draco. He sucked on it and two more, watching Draco's face as he got them wet and proper.

Draco moaned as one pressed fully inside him, rocking into the tempting touch with a pout.

“More,” Harry asked with a smirk, adding another before Draco could answer.

Draco whimpered, shifting away from the uncomfortable pinch.

“You're okay,” Harry whispered urgently, kissing Draco amid a flare of alpha hormones that left them both shaking.

Draco's movements were almost sharp as he moved against the press of Harry's fingers, his cries loud in the quiet of the forest.

Harry moaned, pumping his fingers faster and harder, spreading and twisting them until Draco cried out, convulsing around the intrusion. “I want you,” Harry growled, his voice rough with frustrated need and power.

Draco voiced his encouragement with a high keen, his hands finding and gripping every part of Harry that he could.

Harry thrust his third finger in alongside the first two, desperate to stretch Draco enough. His growls were constant as Draco pressed back.

“Harry,” Draco whined, his body shaking almost violently.

“Soon,” Harry promised, the scent of ready omega clouding his judgment despite his fevered attempts to maintain control. “Soon,” he whispered, pressing his impossibly swollen cock against Draco's hot skin.

“Now,” Draco gasped, feeling like he was burning up from the inside out and only Harry could fix it. As if only Harry could help him. “Please,” he begged, arching and rocking and straining. “Please, Harry, you have to help me,” he sobbed.

“I'm trying,” Harry snarled, gripping him almost bruisingly tight, his fingers nearly vicious in their quest to open Draco for more. “Going to fuck you,” he vowed. “Going to make it all better. Going to come so deep and so hard you'll positively reek of my come.”

Draco shivered and bucked, his cock leaking over their skin, the scent of his arousal spurring them both on. “Please,” he gasped impotently. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Harry whispered, his teeth and tongue marking Draco's skin, his cock aching with his need to split Draco wide and fill him with his spunk.

“Harry,” Draco moaned, falling limp with his legs sprawled invitingly wide.

Harry's growl echoed throughout the forest as he pulled his fingers out of Draco's needy and wet hole, his fingers spreading that scent that could lure him in forever as his positioned his cock and drove into Draco's desperately pliant body.

Draco's yowl was unlike anything Harry had ever heard as Draco's hands and thighs gripped him tight and pulled him closer, deeper, taking him in until the beginning of the knot threatened to push him too far.

“Harry,” he whined piteously, rocking against it, his little hole stretching and contracting as it tried to take that too.

Harry moaned in perverse pride, rolling his hips gently to get Draco used to the sensations of actually being fucked, to taking cock and liking it, to being his permanently.

“Harry,” Draco breathed raggedly, his nails sharp and hard, digging into Harry's skin, the inevitable rush of blood an overwhelming and arousing tease coupled with the scent of desperate omega.

Harry growled, pushing a finger in alongside his cock on the next thrust, stretching him wider as Draco cried out again, his body shivering but adjusting quickly. Harry hooked his finger around the rim of his hole, stretching it and pushing his cock harder, watching that eager opening work to accept his knot.

“You can do it,” he encouraged, stroking Draco's cock and then pinching his nipples just to feel him clamp tight against him.

Draco moaned and whined and shook, his cock almost purple with need, his arse still too tight though it didn't seem to know it.

Harry pushed harder, that little hole tight and glistening, white where his finger pulled it tighter, so close to taking all of him that Harry wanted to kiss and suck it in humble offering.

There were tears in Draco's gold rimmed eyes, his hands clenching and gripping at Harry ineffectually, straining just that bit more.

“Relax,” Harry whispered, kissing him in gentle counterpart to the cruel seeming invasion of his cock.

Draco returned the gesture, kissing Harry in hungry gratitude, his body clenching tight and relaxing as he poured his need and frustration into the joining of their mouths.

Harry rocked slower but pushed harder, desperate and eager himself for the wash of relief that flooding Draco's hole would bring him. His howl was triumphant, echoed by Draco's relieved tone, when the full width of his growing knot slipped inside Draco's spasming hole, locking them together in their first perfect joining.

Harry fought the urge, as Draco wriggled and moved beneath him, to bite down and mark him as his own. He didn't need it, he knew Draco's greedy little hole was his, his to fuck and to fill, to seed with every drop of spunk his balls could spurt.

He thrust harder, his knot pulling at and stretching Draco's sensitive opening as he moved and rocked harder around him.

“Come, Harry,” he pleaded, eyes pure gold as he reached down to grip his own painfully hard cock.

“Go ahead,” Harry whispered, kissing him and closing his hand around Draco's tight balls, rubbing and squeezing until Draco came hard, his scent enough to drive Harry over the edge as well, his knot swelling as his balls emptied.

He slumped tiredly, the movement of his hips gentle as he lay carefully on Draco's heaving chest.

They rested quietly, breath slowing and bodies cooling, touching almost hesitantly.

“Harry,” Draco finally breathed, his fingers timid in Harry's hair. “How—how long until...” he shrugged, shifting his hips against the tug of the remaining knot.

“I don't know,” Harry admitted guiltily. “A while yet.”

Draco let out a soft breath, tightening his arms around Harry's shoulders. “Good.”


End file.
